


love grew after between them

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (in one of these), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Goodbyes, Kidnap Dads, Maedhros lives, Minor Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Reunions, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: "For Maglor took pity upon Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought;" ...and Maedhros loved them, too, in his own way.A collection of ficlets from tumblr prompts, loosely related to one another. (url:@arofili)
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitmo & Maglor | Makalaurë & Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur
Comments: 50
Kudos: 125
Collections: Dialogue Prompts





	1. Kidnap Dads + "Why are you helping me?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazTheBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/gifts), [Ceridawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceridawn/gifts), [Ilya_Boltagon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilya_Boltagon/gifts), [potatoesanddreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatoesanddreams/gifts), [ThatFeanorian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatFeanorian/gifts), [Philosophizes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophizes/gifts), [istarniie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/istarniie/gifts), [fingonsradharp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingonsradharp/gifts).



> I've organized these in roughly chronological order, though they weren't written as part of one cohesive narrative and there's a Maedhros Lives AU in there that doesn't fit with the otherwise canon compliant ficlets. But for the most part these drabbles could be taken as being in the same verse - at least the first bunch (through chapter 7).
> 
> I love this fucked up family :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an anon :)

“Why are you helping me?” Maglor asked. He spoke quietly, and in Quenya, so the little boys would not understand, and not be more frightened than they were already.

Maedhros didn’t look up from where he sat, gently cleaning the blood from the smaller twin’s trembling hands. They were terrified, these children, and rightly so. It was his fault, his and his brother’s. Maglor hadn’t spared much time to think about what they’d done at Sirion, hadn’t slept since the Kinslaying, but he knew already that this would haunt his dreams even more than Alqualondë and Doriath had. This…the other Kinslayings had been bad, but this was worse.

“Nelyo?” Maglor prompted. He carded his fingers through the other twin’s hair, working out the tangles gently like he once had his younger brothers. His younger brothers, who were now dead, every one of them. He was the youngest again.

Maedhros didn’t respond. He didn’t speak much, these days. It frightened Maglor, though he tried not to let it show. He could feel the hurt bleeding from his brother’s fëa like an open wound. He wasn’t trying to hide it like he had in the past.

But he was gentle with the children, no matter how clear his disapproval had been when Maglor brought them to him. Of course he would be gentle; he’d helped raise six siblings, helped guard over all their cousins, helped his Fingon raise the foundling child who was now High King. Maedhros could never be harsh with a child.

“Why am I helping you?” Maedhros said at last, his voice rough. He spoke in Sindarin, and the boys stilled. The one in Maglor’s lap squeezed his eyes shut; the one knelt in front of Maedhros kept them wide open.

“Nelyo, they…” Maglor began, again in Quenya, but this time Maedhros cut him off.

“I told you not to bring them here,” he said bluntly, still speaking Sindarin. “It is a bad idea to get attached to them when we are responsible for the destruction of everything they’ve ever known. They will not be grateful, not when they are grown, even if they can forget you running a sword through their nursemaid.”

“ _Nelyo_ ,” Maglor hissed.

“You brought them to this place of death and blood.” Maedhros looked at him, eyes blazing white. “When you did that you welcomed them onto the path we walk. They are children, yes, but they deserve to know the truth.”

“Why are you helping me, if you think I am such a fool?” Maglor snapped, at last falling into Sindarin, since Maedhros _clearly_ wanted the twins to know how much he hated them.

“Because they are children, and they deserve to live,” Maedhros said. “Because you are my brother and I would help you in anything. Because,” and here he turned the force of his blazing stare to the child who still looked up at him in terror, “a choice has been made, and I must make the best of it.”

Maglor nodded, knowing he would get no better answer.

That night, when he found the boys a place to sleep, they whispered their names to him and begged to keep them safe from the broken elf with the fire in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Maedhros trying to protect the twins from himself...have them go to Maglor and feel safe with him, as a contrast to Mae's "instability"...which is where I think the line in the Silm excluding Maedhros from this family comes in. I don't for a second think he wasn't part of this, but he did _try_ to be, and he was the less sympathetic of the two brothers by this point.  
> But anyway - when Elrond and Elros are older, and they start to resent their captors, Maedhros wants them to put all their blame on him and keep Maglor's relationship with them a place of comfort. He wants to protect all of them and he thinks this is the best way to do it - to make himself the bad guy. It doesn't work. The twins love him too. But it does mean they don't have the same kind of connection with him as they do with Maglor. He wouldn't let them.
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619688911000813568/kidnap-dads-5).


	2. Kidnap Dads + "You make me want things I can't have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For JazTheBard, who writes the BEST kidnap dads fics!!!!

“You make me want things I can’t have,” Maedhros said quietly.

Maglor looked at him sharply. “What on earth are you talking about?”

His brother waved a hand at the twins, asleep on Maglor’s lap. “Children. A family. You know.” His voice was tinged with bitterness. “Even if I am by some miracle reunited with the one I love, that was never a possibility.”

Maglor sighed. Sometimes Maedhros’ guilt and anger and despair was justified, but sometimes he really was a melodramatic fool.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “You have a family—”

“If you mean our dead brothers—” Maedhros began, but Maglor cut him off with a glare.

“Yes, I mean them, but I also mean our mother, who yet lives, and her kin. I mean Tyelpë, who is still out there somewhere. I mean your beloved Findekáno, who will surely be reembodied and if history is any precedent will stop at nothing to save you from whatever doom falls upon us. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my wife again, if she’ll want me back after the Oath is fulfilled, _if_ it’s fulfilled. But I do not doubt your Findekáno for a moment. I mean _me_ , Nelyo—and I mean _them_.” He nodded pointedly to the sleeping children. “You are just as much their father as I am, you know.”

Maedhros stared at him. “They hate me,” he rasped. “For good reason. I take the blame so they do not shoulder it upon you.”

“They see through that,” Maglor replied. “They’re smarter than you think, these peredhil.” He leaned over and punched Maedhros on the arm lightly. “You have enough misery as it is, Nelyo. Don’t heap more upon yourself when you don’t have to.”

“It’s just…” Maedhros blinked back tears. “I look at them and I see Finno’s child. I failed Ereinion, and he resents me—”

“You don’t know that,” Maglor chided. “Just because he doesn’t fly the banner of a Kinslayer…”

“That’s not what I mean,” Maedhros mumbled, though he didn’t elaborate. At length he added, “I do not want to fail them, too. I don’t deserve what joy they could bring me.”

“I don’t think they agree,” Maglor said softly. “And really, what they want is what matters most.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for angst but it turned out way less angsty than I anticipated, lol.
> 
> Also, to be clear: in this verse, Fingon adopted Gil-galad (whose birth parents are Lalwen and Círdan) and then sent a letter to Maedhros like "we have a son now." Russingon is always a thing no matter what verse I'm writing in, lmao.
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/621132437966176256/hmm-48-with-kidnap-dads-i-require-the-angst).


	3. Elrond & Caranthir + "We could get arrested for this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ceridawn!
> 
> I tweaked the prompt a bit to fit the scene I had in mind :)

“We could get in big trouble for this,” Elrond whispered to his twin. 

“We’re _always_ in big trouble,” Elros dismissed. “Don’t you want to figure out who this place used to belong to? Atar always gets so sad when we ask, and Atya…”

He trails off, but Elrond knows what he means. He wouldn’t know what else to call their Atar, but it still feels strange to name Maedhros _Atya_. He’s always been the more distant of their caretakers, only recently warming enough to show his softer side, and neither of them have the courage to ask him about the castle’s former owner for fear he’ll snap back to that cold, distant person he was before.

“Okay, fine,” Elrond relented, and crouched down to let Elros climb on top of his shoulders to reach the door handle.

He turned the key they’d stolen from the chamberlain in the lock, and Elrond held his breath as he heard it _click_ open. Elros scrambled down and together they pushed open the door, at last entering the forbidden room.

A thin layer of dust coated every surface of the room, showing it had been undisturbed for years, and yet every item it contained was neatly tucked away in a bookshelf, on a desk, beneath the bed. It was sad, empty, lonely, but most of all it was _orderly_ , in a way neither of their father figures ever were. The room was grand, bigger even than Maglor’s bedchamber, and blazed with Fëanorian stars on every inch of embroidery: curtains, bedsheets, tidily stacked robes. Elrond hadn’t known what to expect, but this was certainly not it.

He stared, taking it all in, as Elros prowled forward. He sneezed softly as dust tickled his nose, and for some reason it struck Elrond as _wrong_ that the layers of years had suddenly been mucked up by his footsteps. And yet, he could not undo it, nor would Elrond dare hold back his gnawing curiosity any longer.

He stepped after his brother, peeking into drawers full of papers written in a neat script he could not read. The numerals he recognized, as well as the sign marking it as currency, and he squeaked as he realized just how much money whoever lived here had dealt with on the regular.

“Elrond,” Elros hissed, “look at _this_!”

Elrond turned to see Elros pointing at a strange device on a high shelf, a frame fit with several rods stacked with beads. He had never seen such a thing before, and had no idea what it was supposed to be.

“Who lived here?” Elros wondered. “They must have been the lord of this place, or—or _something_ …”

“Could it be a guest room?” Elrond said uncertainly. “Look…that’s a dwarvish hat, on that stand. I’ve only ever seen Mae—Atya’s dwarf friends wear something like that…an elf wouldn’t have it.”

Elros gasped, pulling at the sleeve of one of the long robes. “That’s the Haladin symbol!” he exclaimed, only for Elrond to shush him. “But it is,” he insisted, quieter. “I remember, Ada, I mean our _first_ Ada, he had a shield with that on it, from his ada… It’s a _mortal_ thing.”

“Dwarves _and_ mortals?” Elrond said, scratching his head. “And, I couldn’t read most of it, but there was a paper with some sort of treasury account, and it was so much money. We could’ve rebuilt Naneth’s tower with all that money…”

They didn’t often speak Ada and Naneth, especially not when their new fathers were around, but the reminder of them both, in this room, stirred something within him.

“Do…do you think…” Elrond began hesitantly. “Do you think…we know Atar and Atya, we know they stole us. And if they hadn’t burned it down they could’ve stole our old home. Do you think…they stole _this_ place? Maybe from dwarves, or mortals. Maybe we’re not the first children they’ve…kidnapped.” Maglor and Maedhros were their fathers, they were, and they loved them, but—well, Elrond knew what else they were, too, even if he didn’t like to think about it.

There was a cough from the door. Elros yelped and hid behind Elrond, who stared guiltily up at…oh _no_. They _were_ in big trouble, because the adult who had caught them wasn’t Atar…it was _Maedhros_.

“What are you doing here?” Maedhros rumbled. His voice was so, so very low, and always sounded rough and scary, like he had some mortal illness. But he was an elf, despite the mass of scars across his body, and elves didn’t get sick like that.

“We…we…” Elrond stammered, trembling.

Maedhros sighed, and Elrond realized…he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even that sad. He was…tired.

“You’re not in trouble,” Atya said, “though I think the chamberlain would appreciate it if you returned the key you stole.”

Meekly, Elros returned it to their father. Maedhros reached down to grasp his hand, hesitating before offering his cold golden prosthetic to Elrond. Not wanting to push their luck any more than they already had, Elrond grabbed onto it gingerly, still not all that fond of the inanimate touch.

Atya led them from the room, locking it behind him, and outside to a nearby balcony. It was a cloudy day, but a slight breeze blew from the north, running through Elrond’s hair and making him shiver. Elros clung to Atya’s hand, leaning into his warmth. Atya himself stood still, unaffected by the cold, and Elrond remembered Atar saying something about them having lived in a cold place before.

“Now,” Atya said, soft as his gravelly voice could manage, “would you like to tell me what you were doing in my brother’s room?”

Elrond exchanged a wide-eyed glance with his twin. “Your… _brother_?” he asked hesitantly. “That was Atar’s room? I thought…”

“No,” Atya said, looking out to the horizon, utterly still. “Not Maglor’s room.”

“You have another brother?” Elros guessed.

“No.” Atya looked down at them at last, and Elrond saw that his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I had…five others.”

“ _Five_?” Elros gasped, as Elrond whispered, “ _Had_?”

“You don’t know.” Atya smiled, the scar on his lip twisting his face into something that would’ve been frightening if Elrond didn’t know him well enough. “I suppose, before…they would have just called us ‘the Fëanorians.’ More than one, but not how many.”

“What were their names?” Elrond asked, before wincing as he remembered that Atar and Atya had _so many names_ , and likely their brothers did too.

“There were seven of us.” Maedhros lifted up his hand, then sighed. “Right. I don’t have that many fingers anymore. Well, there were seven: myself, the oldest. Maglor. Celegorm. Caranthir. Curufin. Amrod. Amras.”

Something like dread made Elrond shiver. Those names…they were harsh, cruel. He thought he’d heard them before, not in the way Naneth and Ada had told him stories about their ancestors—the Haladin, Bëor’s folk, Hador’s line, Gondolin, Doriath, Lúthien—but in hushed tones, whispers of ancient evil. Like they’d spoken of the Enemy.

“Celegorm…?” Elros asked hesitantly. “Like…Celegorm who killed Naneth’s brothers?”

“He didn’t—” A shadow of pain flickered across Maedhros’ face, and Elros flinched back. But Atya did not fly into a rage, or even reprimand him. Instead he said quietly, “He did many things, but not that.”

“Will you tell us stories about them?” Elrond asked, wanting to know more about their uncles.

“Maglor is a better storyteller.”

“Atar won’t talk to us about the room,” Elros blurted out. “He gets sad.”

“The room…? Oh.” Atya grimaced. “Well. They are all dead, and he is sentimental. This castle, that room…they used to be Caranthir’s. The middlest of our brothers. He died in Doriath.”

 _Doriath_. Dimly Elrond remembered his mother’s stories, though it was Oropher who told better tales, for he remembered those halls well. Doriath had fallen, assailed by enemies, and so Naneth had fled to the sea. He had always assumed those enemies to be orcs and other terrible things, but…Atar and Atya had burned down Sirion. Maybe they had burned down Doriath, too.

He didn’t want to dwell on that, not now. He needed to learn that other script, the other language that Atya and Atar spoke to one another, for he was sure Caranthir had been writing in it. If he could read those papers, those journals, the history of this place would unravel itself for him, he knew it.

“Did you love him?” he asked instead of some other, damning question. Because really, that was more important, if his atya had loved his brother Caranthir like he loved Atar.

“Yes,” Atya murmured. “I wish I had told him that, more, before the end.”

“I love you,” Elros offered, squeezing his thigh. “And Elrond does too.”

“Mhm,” Elrond agreed, clutching his other leg.

Atya smiled again, and this time he didn’t look nearly as scary. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably not what you had in mind, lol. I did consider writing post-reembodiment fic, but then this happened, oops!
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619961548539084800/if-you-are-still-doing-the-dialog-prompts-i-would).


	4. Kidnap Fam + "How much of that did you hear?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an anon, who probably deserves better than all this angst...

“How much of that did you hear?” Maglor asked quietly.

Elrond looked up at him, his eyes hard. “Enough.”

Maglor nodded, closing his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “We sent you away for a reason.”

“Well, I am here.” Elrond sighed. “Atar…you don’t have to do this.”

He laughed hollowly. “You heard me. I tried. But Maedhros…he won’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. You know our curse, yonya. If we don’t _try_ we will be consumed, turned to worse things. Like we did to you.”

“You made up for it,” Elrond said fiercely. “You must know that.”

“I wish I did.” Maglor looked up into the sky, where Gil-Estel shone bright and damning. “Your father has one Silmaril. Your real father, I mean. Your other fathers…we _must_ have the other two.”

“Atar,” Elrond blurted out, “I came to ask you to come to Valinor with me.”

Maglor stilled. “You’re going to Valinor?”

“If you will come with me, yes.”

“And Elros? What about him?” Maglor looked up at him again, something undefinable glittering in his eyes. “Where is he? He didn’t come with you.”

“Where’s Maedhros?” Elrond asked. He grimaced. “Elros is…busy. Like Atya.”

“Your atya is drowning his sorrows and preparing for a Fourth Kinslaying.” Maglor clenched his fist. “I certainly hope Elros is not.”

“We were offered a choice,” Elrond said, looking at his feet. “Of which kindred we shall be counted as. They said—the Valar said that if we chose mortality, they would give us a land, a blessed land, to the West. Not _the_ Blessed Land,” he added hastily, “not Valinor. But we could take what remains of the Edain and find a new place to live.”

“Beleriand is certainly not habitable anymore.” Maglor nodded, dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. “And if you chose Elvendom…?”

“We could go West, to the Uttermost West, and live in bliss in Aman.” Elrond’s voice was tinged with longing. “Like you, when you grew up.”

“There is a reason we are here now,” Maglor reminded him.

“And you want to stay?” Elrond demanded.

Maglor laughed bitterly. “I have no choice, unlike you.”

“If you forsake this madness, convince Atya—”

“Maedhros will not be convinced. You heard, Elrond. He has been a captive once; he would kill himself before he faces such a fate again.”

“The Valar are not like Morgoth!” Elrond protested. “They would not—”

“Let me remind you which of us was raised in the Blessed Realm,” Maglor said flatly. “This choice of yours, it was offered by Námo, was it not?”

“…Yes. And Manwë.”

“Námo the Doomsayer. Námo who cursed all Noldor who followed my father. Námo who holds my father, and all my brothers save Maedhros, in his keeping even now!” Maglor’s voice grew heated. “No, Elrond. This _choice_ —it is not just. You are peredhil; why must you decide which kindred is better? You are _both_.”

“I chose Elvendom,” Elrond snapped.

Relief washed over Maglor, dispersing a fear he had not realized he held. Good. He may be damned, but at least his sons would be safe, and live eternal. Aman was not so bad a place, after all. He _wanted_ to go back, wanted to join the peredhil and see his mother again, even at the cost of the Valar’s judgement—he was so tempted by Elrond’s offer.

But Maedhros would not go, not even if asked by Elrond, and Maglor would not abandon Maedhros. Not again.

“Then go,” Maglor rasped. “You and Elros—you have not wronged the Valar as we have. Go with them to Valinor, and live in peace. You will be happy there.”

“I can’t,” Elrond whispered, a single tear streaming down his face. “I can’t go alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” Maglor said. “Even without us…your parents will be there, your real parents. And you will always have Elros.” As much as this conversation hurt, he longed to see Elros again, wished he had come with Elrond.

“I have already lost him!” Elrond wailed, falling into Maglor’s arms. “He—he chose mortality!”

Maglor held him tight, cradling his son like he had when he was a child, though he neared adulthood now. Numb shock overcame him: how could Elros do this? How could he abandon Elrond? Did he not know the _pain_ his fathers had endured for their brothers’ sake, the soul-rending torment of Ambarussa sundered from one another this long age, how utterly this could destroy them both?

 _Mortality_. He would take that kingdom offered by the Valar, lead the Edain, and for what? A life lived in the blink of an elvish eye? The promise of… _something_ , beyond the boundaries of Arda? His grandmother Lúthien’s legacy, to doom his family like she doomed hers? Thingol had not outlived his daughter; would Maglor survive this loss? Daeron, her brother, Maglor’s onetime-lover, had lost himself in his grief; would Elrond be able to endure the long ages of Arda alone?

“It’s selfish,” Elrond wept, “he chose first! We’ve been living with the Edain, when Gil-galad is too busy to mind us, and they’re good folk, they love us, they love _him_ , and he told me how much he wants to know what is beyond Arda. He says he feels his mortality in his blood, that no matter how we study, elves will never know! He was so _studious_ , I was the wild one, you know this, and he’s—he’s pursuing _knowledge_ , just like you taught us, knowledge over glory and eternity, and I told him it was a worthy choice, a good one, and then _I chose Elvendom_.”

Maglor had no words to comfort him, still reeling with shock and horror. “He…he will die?” he rasped. “And we will lose him forever?”

“I could have followed him, gone with him,” Elrond sobbed. “But I am a coward. I want peace and light and the easy way out. But now I will be alone, and Eärendil will sail the skies and Elwing sits in her white tower doing nothing but mourn and you and Atya are going to get yourselves killed or worse chasing the fucking Silmarils!”

Elrond tore himself away from Maglor, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what to _do_ ,” he said, his voice cracking. Maglor could scarcely stand to look at him: he was so _young_ , and already faced with so much pain. Such were the children born in Beleriand. And so much of that pain was Maglor’s own fault.

“Please, Atar,” Elrond begged. “Please listen to Eonwë. Come to Valinor with me, I will plead for you, and you and Atya can be freed of your Oath and I can have a family there. _Please_.”

“We cannot,” rumbled a new voice, and Maglor jumped. Maedhros walked out of the shadows, his red hair, once so burning bright, dark and matted with sweat and blood.

“Atya, _please_ —”

“You should not have come, Elrond.” Maedhros used to be so beautiful, once. It broke Maglor’s heart to see him like this. Even after Angband, he had been beautiful, for he shone with purpose and love. Now…even with Maglor here, even with _Elrond_ here, that was all gone. Only the Oath kept him living, Maglor knew.

“Where will I go?” Elrond cried. “Without you, without Elros—what will I do?”

“Gil-galad will not give up his kingship for Valinor,” Maedhros intoned, his voice flat. “Go with him to the east. Celebrimbor is going with him; he wrote inviting us to join him, if we would but forsake the Oath.”

Maglor had not known that. He flashed a look to Maedhros, asking without words if he had been planning on sharing that information. But Maedhros didn’t blink, didn’t acknowledge him.

“Gil-galad… Gil is your brother,” Maglor said softly. “You know that, right?”

Elrond looked between them. “He is Fingon’s son, not yours.”

Maglor bit his lip until it bled. It was low, dirty of him to use Fingon against Maedhros at a time like this, but if it would convince him…

Maedhros blanched, turning pale white beneath the web of scars across his face. “This is cruel of you, Makalaurë,” he rasped, still not turning to look at him. “I thought better of you.”

“You—” Elrond broke off. Maglor saw him calculating in his mind; truly, it was not that difficult to figure out, though Fingon was never spoken of in Maedhros’ earshot, and thus he had been forced to learn of his deeds thirdhand. “You and him—and Gil-galad—oh.”

“He will want a herald. I heard his was slain in the last battle.” Maedhros was back to monotone. “Go east with him.” He shook his head. “Elrond, I…”

“Atya?”

Maedhros looked on the verge of saying something heartfelt. Maglor gripped Elrond’s wrist, hoping, yearning for some spark of the brother he loved to flicker back to life.

But Maedhros’ eyes only darkened. “I wish I could choose to unmake myself as Elros has,” he said. “It would be easier.” Without another word he retreated, leaving Elrond and Maglor staring dumbfounded after him.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Maglor said tiredly, but his words did not even fool himself.

“I understand now,” Elrond murmured. “I…you’re right, Atar, I should not have come.”

“Elrond…” Maglor wiped at his eyes. “I am sorry. Truly. For everything we have done to you. You—oh, child, you deserve better than the lot you have been dealt.”

“I have plenty of time left to make something better out of it.” His words were dull. “Gil-galad will take me, but…he cannot replace Elros. He doesn’t even know me as his brother.”

“He will. He will love you, Elrond. Who couldn’t?”

Elrond looked at him, the full force of his betrayal shining through his tears. “I can think of a few people,” he whispered.

If Maglor’s heart had not already been shattered into countless pieces, it would have broken then.

“Goodbye, yonya,” he mustered, and Elrond gave him one last embrace.

He could not bring himself to wish his son joy. It would only serve as a last reminder of all they both had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahaha I broke myself while writing this oops :))))))  
> I don't necessarily think this is how it all went down? This definitely isn't my main headcanon, I mean. But it sure is a fun and angsty one!!!  
> Also: This is the last time Elrond sees Maedhros. However it is NOT the last time he sees Maglor - they reconnect and reconcile later!! Though there is a hot minute where Maglor is convinced that Elrond hates him ;-;
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/620163867275870208/45-kidnap-fam).


	5. Kidnap Fam + "I thought you were dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For another wonderful anon!
> 
> This is just what we need after the angst of the last chapter - a Maedhros Lives AU!

“I thought you were dead.”

Maedhros stared first at his hands—what was left of them, one a mass of charred flesh and the other entirely absent—and then at his son. “To—to be fair,” he rasped, “I thought I was, too.”

Elrond had a look on his face that was all too familiar: grief and anger and relief and joy all mixed into one. Maedhros had been responsible for that look more times than his heart could take. It had been selfish of him, he realized, to think he could avoid seeing it by taking his own life instead of by working to bring more joy to Elrond than he did sorrow.

As if Elrond could sense his thoughts—and he probably could; Maedhros had learned to build up defenses against ósanwë, but they were all shattered now along with the rest of his fëa, and Elrond had the kind of soul-piercing eyes that could always see through his pain, anyway—his gaze softened.

“Atya,” he said, opening his arms, and Maedhros fell into his embrace. Elrond was so _tall_ now; so wonderfully strong and wise. Maedhros was so proud of him.

“I’ll never leave you again,” he promised, weeping into his son’s shoulder. “Not ever.”

Elrond hugged him tight, and Maedhros could tell he was crying too. “Don’t say that. You can’t know that.”

“I do,” Maedhros insisted. “The Oath—it’s fulfilled now, as much as it can be, and you’re…you’re the only family I have left.”

“Not the only family,” Elrond said, pulling back so Maedhros could see his smile. “Elros isn’t here, but he’s alive—he’s a king now, of all the Edain who would follow him—and Celebrimbor is working to build a guild of craftsmen—and Maglor—”

 _Maglor_. Maedhros gasped; he’d hardly spared a thought to what his only remaining little brother had endured. “He’s _alive_?” he whispered. “He didn’t—he didn’t follow me into death…?”

“You didn’t fall into death,” Elrond reminded him. “And no—he threw his Silmaril into the sea, and left the rest of Elvendom. I haven’t been able to find him, not yet, but he _lives_ , and I found you while looking for him—and who knows him better than you? We can find him, together.”

“Together,” Maedhros repeated, overcome with hope, and for the first time since before Fingon’s death, he truly believed in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does Mae survive? Don't ask me, I don't know! He just does!
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619619290523549696/for-the-dialogue-prompts-13-with-kidnap-fam-or).


	6. Elrond & Elros + "I might never get another chance to say this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely Ilya_Boltagon <3

“I might never get another chance to say this,” Elros said, his eyes wide and full of mock sincerity, “but…I _did_ eat your half of our birthday cake when we were twelve.”

Elrond smacked his brother lightly on the shoulder. “Stop being so melodramatic!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “You act as if this is the last time we shall ever see each other!”

“But it _may_ be,” Elros argued, a twinkle in his eye. “Every time you visit, it may be! Who knows when my youth will dry up? Not I! Here I am, king of Númenórë for two hundred years already—I feel young and hale, just like you, although I _must_ say that my beard is quite handsomer than whatever that thing on your face is supposed to be—”

Elrond shoved him harder this time. “Don’t insult my elvish blood,” he teased. “I’m still not sure how our choices affect our facial hair growth, but truly if you think this wispy thing is anything more than something one of your mortal women could grow—”

“I’ll tell my wife you said that!” Elros hummed, wagging his finger.

“Please do!” Elrond smirked. “She’ll agree with me. You know she likes me better, she only married you because of the mortality business.”

“And because you’re the most boring man alive!”

“ _Elf_ , dear brother, and you’ll not forget it!” Elrond leaned over to kiss his kingly brother right on his bristly cheek. “I’ll miss you,” he said fondly.

“And I you.” Elros smiled. “Maybe next time I can take the children to visit you and Gil-galad?”

Elrond’s face lit up. “Yes! Lindon is splendid in the summertime, you’ll love the trees, and the beach reminds me of Sirion—”

“My lord Elrond!” someone called. “We are ready to depart!”

“I must go,” Elrond apologized. “Duty calls.”

Elros sighed, glancing back up the dock to where his own retinue waited. “I understand. Farewell, Elrond.”

“Oh, and Elros?” Elrond asked, just as he was turning to leave.

“What?”

“I might never get another chance to say this…Maedhros and Maglor never mentioned it, we were too young, and honestly I think you would’ve chosen differently if you’d known—”

“Spit it out,” Elros drawled.

“—it’s just, frankly, you’re missing out on all the orgies we elves have at Midsummer!”

“ _Elrond_!” Elros shrieked after him, but his twin skipped away laughing, and Elros couldn’t help but grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sure you were anticipating lots of angst, given that prompt and the nature of the twins' Choices, but I couldn't resist some fluff - especially since I wrote this immediately after ch4, lol.
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/620166188054577152/i-know-you-said-you-didnt-want-silm-prompts-but).


	7. Elrond & Maglor + "It was you the whole time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For potatoesanddreams :)

“It was you the whole time?” Maglor croaked, still unable to believe his eyes. _Elrond_ , his _son_ , stood before him, all grown up, smiling, _happy to see him_ —

Elrond beamed, and it was like he was a child again and had just presented Maglor with a mess of shells and string and proclaimed he’d made his ada a necklace. And just like then, Maglor was overcome with wonder and affection and gratitude that somehow he’d managed to do this one thing right.

“I ought to be offended that my father can’t recognize his own son,” Elrond said, throwing his arms around Maglor, “but I can’t be anything but glad I finally found you.”

Maglor hugged him back, not wanting to ever let him go, eyes welling up with tears. “But the _whole time_ …?” he asked. “I really believed you were some storytelling wanderer, looking for his father…oh.”

“That _is_ who I am,” Elrond said, leaning back and wiping a tear from Maglor’s eye. “Or who I _was_ , at least. I’m not looking anymore.”

“You look so different than when I last saw you,” Maglor said, reaching a hand out to trace the line of Elrond’s face. His son leaned into the touch, and Maglor thought his heart could burst.

“I was a gangly youth when you last saw me,” Elrond said. “Now I’m a lord in my own right. Ada, I’m getting married next summer, and I _had_ to find you—”

“Married?” Maglor laughed, a sharp bark of joy that sounded strange and harsh to his own ears. It had been _so long_ since he’d used his golden voice for anything other than singing the Noldolantë. “Little Elrond, married! I know Elros was married, he has to have been, he—” He broke off. “Oh, Elrond…I’m so sorry.”

A brief flicker of pain flashed across Elrond’s eyes, but his smile remained. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “It was a long time ago. I’ve made peace with it—and it’s what he wanted.”

“…Who is the lucky elf?” Maglor asked, hoping they really _were_ an elf. He didn’t know if he could handle welcoming any more mortals into his family that might end up leaving him.

“Her name is Celebrían,” Elrond said, and his eyes lit up like the stars he was named for, “and she’s the most wonderful elleth I’ve ever met.”

“Celebrían…” Maglor frowned; he’d heard that name before, somewhere in his travels. After a moment the name clicked into place, and he gripped Elrond’s shoulder. “Wait. Celebrían? You mean… _Artanis_ ’ daughter Celebrían?”

“Lady Galadriel has been unfailingly kind to me,” Elrond said earnestly. “She told me I could find you, she—”

“Oh, no,” Maglor groaned. “Are you certain you want me to come to your wedding?”

“ _Of course_ I do, Ada!”

“Then I shall have to prepare myself, and not only to sing your wedding song.” Maglor took a deep breath and steeled himself. “I cannot imagine the things she has to say to me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619708606777114624/26-elrond-maglor).


	8. Kidnap Fam + Abandonment Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's round two of some Kidnap Dads prompts! These were not necessarily written to go together, unlike the first round, and I employed different headcanons depending on what worked in context.
> 
> These are all prompted from this [Found Family prompt list](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/629184323680124929/found-family-prompts), shared by the wonderful JazTheBard, the King of Kidnap Dads :)
> 
> I expected lots of Kidnap Dads request, and I got a handful of them - but I was pleased to write for other characters, too! This is actually the last set of prompts to be crossposted to AO3; you can find the other found family ficlets on my profile!
> 
> Anyway - this first prompt was for the wonderful ThatFeanorian, who requested "Kidnap Fam + Abandonment Issues"!

Maglor’s away, trading for supplies a village over, which means when the children start crying loud enough for Maedhros to hear several rooms away, it’s his responsibility to comfort them.

He lies still in his bed—he hadn’t been sleeping, but the ritual of scheduled rest is something his warrior’s body can’t quite shake even when his prisoner’s mind won’t let him relax—for a few moments longer than he should, in the vain wish that the weeping will cease on its own. It doesn’t, of course, and he forces himself to rise, not sure if it’s the bedframe or his bones that creak at the movement.

He turns the doorknob (it’s not locked; Maglor told them it was but he’d stopped bothering weeks ago when it was clear the children were too terrified to attempt an escape) and pokes his head inside the small room. It’s drab and empty of anything save a bed and what could pass for toys in a place like this.

Maedhros finds himself yearning for Amon Ereb once more, but that fortress had been abandoned after Sirion when it became clear that the amount of their people who had died or deserted had depleted their forces too much to maintain a strong defense there. Thus this ramshackle burned-out village, far too close to the shoreline for anyone’s comfort, has become their new…not home. Camp, perhaps; or…base. For now.

The crying ceases the second he steps inside. Two sets of wide silver eyes stare at him in mute terror. They’re so like his own eyes (and he _knows_ what his eyes look like, has seen them staring back at him glittering with malice, set in a perfect handsome face that hasn’t been his in a long time—) that he stops in his tracks, sent back to Angband for just a moment.

But then the color in the twins’ eyes shifts, a talent passed down from their Maia ancestress, and now one has their mother’s soft brown (though she could change it too; Maedhros remembered her pupils expanding, consuming the whites of her eyes, as she screamed and leapt into the water) and the other their father’s piercing, Nolofinwëan blue. Maedhros bites his lip and tries hard not to think about the last time he saw eyes that blue.

“What’s wrong?” he rasps.

“M-Maglor?” stammers one of them. Maedhros wishes he could tell them apart.

“He’s not here,” Maedhros says shortly. “I am. What’s wrong?”

“Elros had a nightmare,” whispers the other twin—Elrond, then.

Maedhros grimaces. “Well, I know what nightmares are like,” he says, awkwardly sitting at the foot of the bed they share. “You did not wake me with your crying because I was not asleep for fear of them.” That’s not _exactly_ the truth, at least not all of it, but something in Elros’ eyes seems to soften.

“But you’re the scariest thing in the world,” Elrond blurts out. “What are _you_ afraid of?”

Maedhros closes his eyes. “Many things,” he rumbles. “There are more fearsome creatures than myself in this world, and once I was their captive. I fear those memories, and a return to their clutches.”

The boys shrink away from him. Damn it, that had not been at all comforting.

“I am also afraid of—” he coughs, then admits— “of being alone.”

“Oh,” Elros says. “Me too.” He glances to Elrond, who clutches his arm tightly.

“I won’t leave you,” Elrond promises.

Elros doesn’t return the vow. Just as well, Maedhros thinks bitterly; oaths cannot be counted to keep brothers together, not in dark times like these.

“Do you miss Maglor?” Elros asks.

Maedhros blinks. “…Yes,” he says, though he knows his brother will return in the morning. “And—others.” Those who _had_ left him, for good, whether they wanted to or not.

“We miss him too,” Elros murmurs, and Elrond squeezes his arm until he yelps, hissing, “What? It’s true!”

“We’re not supposed to…” But Elrond trails off, glancing up worriedly to Maedhros.

“It’s alright.” Maedhros shrugs. “We are quite literally monsters from a nightmare. If it was me you dreamed of, covered in blood and ash and burning down your home…I would not blame you. It is only natural.”

“You—” Elros squeaks. Then he sticks out his chin. “It wasn’t you. It was—it was Nana.”

Nana? Oh— _Elwing_. Elros’ chin wobbles, and instinctively, Maedhros opens his arms. (As much as his body cannot forget he is a warrior, nor his mind that he was a prisoner, his spirit cannot forget he is an older brother before all else.)

To his astonishment, Elros falls into his embrace, weeping openly. “She left us,” he sobs, “and she—in my dream she told me she wasn’t coming back. She’s not coming back, Elrond, we’re alone…”

Now Elrond is crying too, worming his way into Maedhros’ arms, and for a moment he’s back in Valinor again comforting the Ambarussat after a bad dream. It’s second nature to murmur assurances that everything will be alright, that the children are loved, but his throat closes up when he tries to tell them Elwing will return.

She won’t. He knows she won’t. She soared away on swan’s wings, and if she somehow managed to turn herself back, she will never surrender the Silmaril. She made that much clear.

“We’re here,” he whispers instead, astonished by the rush of love that overcomes him; “we’re here, Maglor and I, and we won’t leave you. You aren’t alone, little ones, you’ll never be alone…”

After a few minutes they cry themselves into sniffles. They don’t leave his arms, and Maedhros suddenly finds he is exhausted after all. Elros is already snoring, and Elrond yawns as he tries to lay the children back down in their bed.

“Don’t go,” Elrond whispers, grabbing his arm when he makes to leave. “You…you said…”

Maedhros sinks back down, tears budding in his eyes. He doesn’t deserve such comforts, such trust, not when he has not earned it—but he said he wouldn’t leave them, so he won’t.

“I’ll stay,” he murmurs, tucking one twin under each arm and lying down with them. His legs hang off the edge of their small bed, and they’re practically on top of him, but he hasn’t felt this needed in years. Decades.

“I’ll stay,” he repeats, his eyes fluttering shut. _I will, I always will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/629195693942276096/number-one-with-the-kidnap-fam-i-love-me-some).


	9. Kidnap Dads + Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Philosophizes, who requested "Kidnap Dads + Secrets" :)
> 
> Featuring some Russingon and Daemags (with Daeron as Luthien's brother)!

“If you let me give you a bath, I’ll sing you a song,” Maglor wheedled.

Elrond and Elros looked at each other—then shook their heads.

Maglor sighed. Being a fa… Being responsible for children was _exhausting_. How had his parents managed _seven_? No wonder Fëanáro had spontaneously combusted by the end…

“I’ll tell you a story?” he offered.

A longer pause of consideration, and he held his breath…but no. Another round of shaking heads.

“I’ll… I’ll…” Maglor could only think of things that were not appropriate for these children, like “I’ll teach you how to use an axe” or “I’ll let you go out hunting alone” or “I won’t tell Atar you snuck out to see Findekáno again” …all things that would work better on slightly older children, or just his brothers specifically.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said desperately.

An even longer pause. And then, at last—

Two nods. Maglor sighed in relief, shoulders slumping. What secret? He hadn’t a clue, but he did have an entire bath to think of one.

* * *

“Secret!” Elros demanded, grabbing him by the sleeve. “You promised!”

Maglor sat at the edge of their bed. “What kind of secret?” he asked.

They conferred with one another in the way twin elflings had. (If that twin bond was at all affected by their mortal blood, he couldn’t tell. Or it was balanced out by the strain of Maia within them.)

At last, Elrond said, “Secret about… _him_.” He shuddered, and Maglor’s heart sank.

“Maedhros has lots of secrets,” he said slowly. “Some of them are even secret from me.”

“You _promised_ ,” Elros whined.

“Only some!” Maglor said hurriedly. He’d been too busy corralling twin peredhil through bathtime to think of something to tell them—and he wouldn’t have dared to offer something about his only remaining brother.

He took a deep breath. Well, this was something they would probably need to find out eventually, and Maedhros would appreciate not having to be the one to tell them.

“Now, you musn’t gossip about this,” he warned; “it _is_ a secret, after all.”

Their eyes lit up and two heads nodded vigorously. “We promise!” squeaked Elrond.

“My brother,” Maglor whispered conspiratorially, “is married.”

Their eyes went round as the moon at its fullness, changing color to match its silver sheen as well…or perhaps to match Maedhros’ eyes.

“To who?” Elros gasped.

“Erestor?” Elrond guessed, and Maglor shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“He is married to the High King of all the Noldor,” he said. “Or—the one before the last. Findekáno was his name in Valinor, but you would know him as Fingon of Barad Eithel, the uncle of your grandmother.”

“Oh,” Elrond breathed. “That’s very sad, then. Isn’t he dead?”

“He is,” Maglor confirmed gravely, “which is why Maedhros is so grim. Well—part of why. You musn’t bring it up, unless he does first, and even then you should be careful.”

They nodded solemnly.

“How did they fall in love?” Elros asked.

“A story for another night, if you are good at bathtime again,” Maglor promised. He’d keep the more scandalous details to himself; there was plenty of drama to keep them entertained even without that.

They snuggled together under their covers, and, possessed by some fatherly impulse he could not deny, Maglor kissed each of them on the forehead. To his surprise, they didn’t pull away. It looked as if they were ready to drift off to sleep, their curiosity, for the moment, sated.

Or not. As Maglor rose to tiptoe out of their room, a small hand grabbed his shirtsleeve.

“You said Fingon was our grandmother’s uncle?” asked Elrond sleepily. “Thought that was…Daeron the Minstrel?”

Maglor froze, mortified, wondering if these children could read his thoughts. He had come very near to marrying Daeron himself, and he could only imagine the irony if they’d gone through with it. Related to the twins on _both_ sides of their family, to the same degree as Maedhros, even…!

“No, that’s your grand _father_ ’s uncle,” he managed to choke out. “And the other side of the family. Fingon was your father’s mother’s uncle; Daeron was your mother’s father’s uncle.” He laughed nervously. “Go to sleep, little peredhil. Maybe, after I tell you the story of Maitimo and Findekáno in the time of the Trees, I’ll tell you the story of Makalaurë and Daeron at the Feast of Reuniting…”

But luckily, they had not heard that last half-an-offer he did not truly wish to follow up on, for they were already fast asleep when he finished secret-telling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/629852760946442240/59-kidnap-dads).


	10. Kidnap Fam + Platonic Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For istarniie, who requested "Kidnap Fam + Platonic Cuddling" <3

“Atar?” one of the twins asked.

Maglor looked up from the letter he was writing and turned to face him, unable to help the smile spreading across his lips at the name. It never failed to warm his heart, no matter his guilt as to why they’d begun to call him that. He raised an eyebrow as—it was…Elrond, yes—looked at him curiously. “Hm?”

Elrond glanced back to where Maedhros had collapsed into a snoring heap on his armchair. He rarely let himself be vulnerable, but after a day of chasing the peredhil around the practice court and trying to make sure they didn’t stab each other with their newly-gifted swords (at least, not fatally; Elros was in the infirmary getting his arm patched up where Elrond had nicked him), he was exhausted enough to pass out in this semi-public living space. Servants eyed his sleeping form with curiosity; Maglor wondered if any of them had seen his brother in such a position before.

Elrond certainly hadn’t. “Why is he so tense all the time?” he asked. “I’ve never seen him…like this.”

“He’s always been uptight,” Maglor said carefully. “Even when he was only my older brother Nelyo, looking out for me as a child. And—you know about Angband.”

Elrond nodded, eyes downcast. “But…”

“He can only relax like this when he feels safe around people,” Maglor murmured. “Don’t tell him I said that—he’ll deny it—but it’s true. And now that it’s just me, and you, and your brother…”

“He doesn’t feel safe anymore?” Elrond guessed.

Maglor shook his head. “It was worst after the Nírnaeth. He didn’t sleep unless I Sang him there for…years. And then, after Doriath, after losing—” He broke off. He had not been about to say “our brothers” but “the twins”—Nimloth’s sons—but that was too close to these twins’ lives to bring up. Especially after he and Maedhros had lost another set of twins, the Ambarussat, at Sirion…

“Well,” Maglor said quietly, “this is the first time he feels safe enough to relax around…you.”

“Elros wants to call him Atar, too,” Elrond confessed. “We…he’s scarier than you, but now…we feel safe around him, too.”

Maglor’s throat closed up, and he pulled Elrond—his _son_ —into his arms. “He would love that,” he rasped. “Truly. He feels like he’s not good enough for you, but he _is_ , he’s—he’s always been the best of us—” (oh how it hurt to use Tyelko’s words like that, but it was _true_ —) “and you…can prove it.”

“I don’t think he should be Atar,” Elrond said, and Maglor froze. Had he spoken too soon…?

“I mean, _you’re_ Atar,” Elrond reasoned, “we should call him something else. But ‘Ada’ is…our other father…”

Relief washed over Maglor. Oh, this was a _linguistic_ issue—how very Fëanorian!

“Atya?” he suggested. “Or Atto? Those are both Quenya words for ‘father,’ like Atar.”

“Atya,” Elrond mused, snuggling closer to him, eyes drifting shut. “I like that. Atar and Atya.”

Gently, Maglor pried his son off of himself. “I’m busy,” he chided. “I’ve got to finish this letter. Go cuddle your Atya instead—he’ll appreciate it.”

Elrond hummed in agreement and dragged his feet over to Maedhros. He clambered into the chair and his Atya’s arms.

When Elros returned from the infirmary, he joined them; when Maedhros woke to the twins curled up in his lap he froze, glancing to his brother.

“What…?” he whispered, vaguely panicked.

“They’re cuddling with their Atya,” Maglor murmured. “Don’t disturb them, Nelyo, or we’ll never hear the end of it…”

Tears shining bright in his eyes, mouthing the word “Atya” (only now did Maglor remember that had been what Fingon’s son had called him, also), Maedhros settled back into sleep, pulling his sons even closer.

Maglor smiled, his own eyes misty. This was more than they deserved, he knew, but he loved the twins so, and he could not begrudge them or poor, tormented Maedhros this moment of peace and comfort.

Perhaps when he finished his letter, he would join them, completing this strange little family portrait of Atya, Atar, and sons; he, his brother and the twins they called their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/630249887272943616/also-if-i-am-allowed-more-than-one-kidnap-fam).
> 
> Who is Mags writing a letter to? idk man, you tell me!
> 
> Maglor's reference to Tyelko's words, about Maedhros being "the best of us," is something I've slipped into a couple fics - namely [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436616) and [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25240279/chapters/61184023). Someday I should write a fic about Tyelko and Mae, and what that phrase really means to them...


	11. Kidnap Dads + Protectiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon, who requested "Kidnap Dads + Protectiveness"! This is a bit of an inversion of what anon probably expected, and it was very fun to write.
> 
> I was really channeling my inner Jaz here, with all the eldritch/Maiar peredhil traits :D

“Elerondo, let us pass,” Eönwë said grimly. (Elerondo always seemed the more reasonable of the two…oddities.)

But the twins stood their ground. Their eyes blazed brighter than the remembered Light of the Trees—brighter even than the Silmarils, one now possessed by each of their fathers—and the Eldarin warriors at Eönwë’s command shrank from their glow. The boys… _changed_ , their fëar (eälar?) shifting and hröar (fanar?) becoming something very nearly monstrous, like the shadows of ruined Doriath, or the depths of the sea.

“Elerossë,” Eönwë tried, turning to Elerondo’s brother. “Do not attempt to stand against the Valar. The Gift promised to you and your people may yet be rescinded.”

Something in Elerossë’s glare dimmed, but if anything Elerondo shone all the brighter, and soon his twin recovered. Eönwë did not scowl—the herald of Manwë would never—but in his irritation he spread his wings wide and turned up his own brightness, outshining the peredhil. Two—well, three could play that game.

“You shall not pass,” the twins spake in eerie unison, their thousand voices echoing and striking fear into the hearts of those who heard them. “You will not arrest our fathers in their flight with their rightful property.”

“That Light is not theirs,” Eönwë thundered, borrowing his Vala’s affects. “And the jewels encasing it ceased to belong to them the moment they shed blood in their name. They are Kinslayers and thieves and must be brought to judgement.”

“ **YOU WILL NOT TAKE THEM.** ” Eönwë felt rather than heard this threat, and he gave brief pause. Truly, though their Mairin heritage left them with but a drop of Melian’s spirit, they were powerful. Was it an undiluted strain? Did their mother possess such depths of strength? Eönwë had never felt threatened by Eldar before, but this…

“You do not intimidate me,” Eönwë warned. “I am a Maia also, and older than you. If you do not let us pass, I will force my way.”

“‘Us,’ herald?” said Elerondo. “Your warriors have fled.”

Eönwë looked back: so they had. Well, no matter. It would not be difficult to chase and capture two broken, burning Kinslayers on his own.

“And would you force us, truly?” Elerossë inquired. “Would you slay us?”

“Would that not make you as guilty as our fathers?” Elerondo asked.

For the first time, Eönwë truly hesitated. _Would_ it…? He had slain the Children before: Eldar turned Orcs, Atani corrupted by Moringotto, and he loathed it each time. But to kill a Maia…he had always given mercy to the Úmaiar he fought. Not even Sauron, his fallen friend, had he slain.

“You cannot protect them forever,” he warned, lowering his wings. “Justice will find them, in the end.”

“Mercy will find them first,” Elerossë vowed.

Eönwë bowed his head, defeated, and watched the two terrors of Beleriand disappear into the smoke after their fathers.

He was glad neither had chosen to come to Aman, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eönwë when Elrond shows up to Valinor in the Fourth Age: oh shit oh fuck gotta go
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/630521635594715136/kidnap-dads-with-54).


	12. Kidnap Dads + Pillow/Blanket Forts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For fingonsradharp, who requested "Kidnap Dads + Pillow/Blanket Forts" :D

Maedhros halted abruptly as soon as he crossed the threshold of the boys’ room. “What are you doing?”

Elrond and Elros froze guiltily. Elrond looked down at the ground, while Elros scrunched up his nose.

“Building a blanket fort?” he said.

A blanket fort? Maedhros blinked, re-examining the mass of pillows shoved beneath chairs, blankets draped over them, the cozy little cavern the twins had created for themselves. He’d done similar things as a child, he recalled, though there had been no concept of “forts” in Aman. It stung his heart to think that they had never known peace, had been born and raised in a land where even forts did not stand for long…

But this would would, this blanket fort within a fortress. Maedhros would defend Amon Ereb, so the children could defend their quilted creation.

“A fort should have defenses,” Maedhros said, crouching down to inspect it. “It should be strong enough to withstand enemy attack. I would know—I held Himring for centuries, and hold Amon Ereb even now.”

Elrond looked up, eyes wide. “Will you help us, Atya?” he blurted out. “So if Atar comes we can—defend it from him?”

Maedhros laughed, ruffling his son’s hair. “Of course,” he said. “First—let’s spread these chairs out, and find some poles and books to build with, so we can expand our fort and I can fit inside…”

* * *

“What are you doing?” Maglor asked, baffled, as his brother and their sons marched past him with arms full of blankets, books, and…stilts?

The twins scampered on ahead, completely oblivious, but Maedhros paused, a cheery sparkle in his eyes that Maglor hadn’t seen there since…before Fingon died.

“I’m instructing them in siege warfare,” he pronounced. “Keep out of their room for an hour or two, alright? You’ll be playing the enemy, eventually. Just like our drills back in the day!”

“Atya!” Elros called. “C’mon!”

Maedhros grinned— _grinned!_ —and all but pranced away, more excited than Maglor could remember him being in a very long time. A little morbid that it was battle tactics that put such a spring in his step, but, well, that was Maedhros…and Maglor saw the truth. His brother was happy to feel _useful_ , instructing the twins on something important, something he knew well, and able to spend time with his sons as well.

He shook his head with a smile, already turning over ideas of how to play the game along with them. If Maedhros had a hand— _hah_ —in the fort they were building, it would take a little more than knocking over a chair to take it down…not that he’d really do that. He’d let the boys take him hostage.

After all, of the four of them that comprised this strange little family, he was the only one who’d never been kidnapped before!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That closing line was inspired by a conversation on the Silm server :)
> 
> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/630802939082080256/kidnap-dads-pillowblanket-forts).

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably add any future Kidnap Dads-related drabbles I write in the future to this collection, so subscribe if you want to see those!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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